


Secret Santa

by shieldivarius



Series: Femslash Yuletide 2013 [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash Yuletide, Gift Exchange, Pre-Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Prompt: Secret Santa, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldivarius/pseuds/shieldivarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had never dawned on her that a division of S.H.I.E.L.D. might do such a quaint thing as a Secret Santa gift exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Santa

When Melinda had agreed to take a desk job in administration on return from her leave instead of returning to the field or retiring from S.H.I.E.L.D. altogether, she had done so expecting an easier time of things. For the most part, she’d gotten that easier time—where easier meant mind numbing and so safe that her new colleagues thought a paper cut was a life threatening injury.

She didn’t mind the change of scenery. At least, she hadn’t until this holiday season, her first with the new department, had rolled around.

The ops divisions, and field agents with them, had a 50/50 chance of working through any given holiday season without remarking its passing. She’d done it herself, three years ago in a country without the pervasive Christian presence of Western Europe and North America.

It had never dawned on her that other divisions of S.H.I.E.L.D. might do such quaint things as a Secret Santa gift exchange when the holidays rolled around. It had been even more surprising—and irritating—to learn that the entire department was required to participate, under some farce of team building.

They couldn’t spend more than $30 on the gift. Homemade items were encouraged but not required. This year accounting wanted in on the exchange too, and wasn’t that _exciting?_

Grove, the woman who Melinda gathered had been responsible for organizing the exchange since its inception, had sounded thrilled when she made the announcement. A couple of people seemed to share Melinda’s view on the exchange and had offered up bright, fake smiles as they drew names from the hat. 

Melinda hadn’t bothered with the smile.

And she wasn’t surprised when it was Grove’s name she pulled from the hat, because that was the way Murphy’s Law worked. 

She turned the scrap of paper with Grove’s name typed on it around and around in her fingers. The gift was due tomorrow, and normally she wasn’t the procrastination type, but she’d blocked the exchange from her mind until the department-wide memo about it had gone around this morning. Now she sat on the couch, watching the clock, knowing that the malls were going to be more and more hectic the longer she put off actually leaving the apartment, and unable to care.

“You’ve been staring at that piece of paper for nearly half an hour,” Natasha said, coming up behind her and sliding her hands down Melinda’s shoulders and around the top of her chest in a hug. “What is it?”

Melinda groaned, dropping her head back and looking up at her partner, this angle giving her a lovely view of her chin and the ends of her hair but not much else. She hadn’t told Natasha about the exchange, though she suspected she’d get a good kick out of it.

“I have to go gift shopping,” she admitted. 

Natasha plucked the paper from Melinda’s fingers. “Who is Ashley Grove?”

“She works in my department.”

Natasha looked a question at her, and Melinda elaborated, because in her world, and in the world Melinda had come from, a name scrawled on a small piece of paper could mean a very different thing than this one did. 

“I need to buy her a gift for a Secret Santa exchange.”

“…Oh,” Natasha uttered, the sound a little delayed and probably covering laughter. Melinda was sure she would’ve laughed if their roles were switched. “For when?” she asked, voice prim, curious.

“Tomorrow.”

Natasha straightened, her arms leaving their comforting hold around Melinda’s shoulders. “You’re cutting it close,” she said and she sounded disapproving, which Melinda didn’t need on top of it all.

“I’m aware.” 

“Come.” Natasha’s hand found Melinda’s, wrapped around it, and tugged her to her feet. Reluctant, Melinda went along with it. “You should have told me,” she murmured. 

“Why?” Melinda asked, feeling ridiculous.

Natasha turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “Because,” she said, pursing her lips. “I would’ve gone and bought something for you to give her. Now we’re going together, because I’m not taking on evening mall crowds, five days before Christmas in New York, by myself.”

“You say that now,” Melinda said, dropping her hand from Natasha’s so they could get their coats on. “But I think you would’ve told me to just go.”

“Still could,” Natasha pointed out.

“Would rather you didn’t.”

Natasha smiled at her. “Then, come.”

 

The mall was hell. Hell, draped in fake pine boughs and twinkly white lights, stuffed with people who looked just as haggard and unhappy with being there as Melinda felt. She’d been tense since the moment they’d walked in, and now, half an hour later, was tenser and no closer to leaving.

“I understand you don’t like her,” Natasha said, forcing a paper cup full of tea into Melinda’s hand. “But you have to pick a gift that doesn’t say that.”

“You say this like you’re well versed in gift-giving,” Melinda muttered, blowing across the lip of the cup even knowing it would be a few minutes before it was cool enough to drink.

Natasha arched an impatient eyebrow. “What type of person is she?”

“The type who makes government administration a career.”

“Rather derisive, coming from someone who works in her department.”

Melinda scowled at her, but Natasha already looked apologetic. They were both tense, the crowds serving neither of them well.

“Look,” Natasha said, nudging Melinda’s shoulder with her own. “A boutique with gift baskets. Simple. There’ll be one in the price range. It’s already wrapped. Done.”

Melinda breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you for coming with me,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Natasha said, a wry smile to her lips. “Let’s get one and get out of here.”

“Please.” 

 

Melinda dumped the gift basket, a mid-sized thing that had come in just under the maximum price and was filled with jams and crackers and chocolates, with Grove’s name written neatly on the tag, under the office tree when she arrived at work the next morning. 

Then she retreated to her desk and did her absolute best to ignore the way everyone around her, even those who had been unexcited by the idea of the Secret Santa exchange, kept making excuses to get up and take a path by the small pile of gifts to get where they were going.

At lunch, Melinda’s attempt to steal down to the cafeteria and avoid the whole thing was stalled by the accounting department flooding into their floor and the gifts being distributed.

“That’s strange,” Grove said, overseeing the handing out of the gifts. “Melinda, your name must have been put in twice. Does everyone have a gift?”

Grove held a small box in her hand, and when no one spoke up, she crossed and handed it to Melinda. It had more weight to it than it looked like at first glance, and Melinda turned the tag over. The gift that had already been sorted to her, a bag that clearly held a bottle of wine, was from Brad, three desks over. 

“Well, everyone can open if you haven’t already!” Grove exclaimed, though she sent a suspicious look in Melinda’s direction before she turned to her own gift. 

People started peeling off at that, to open things at their own desks, and Melinda took this as excuse to retreat to hers. She set the wine gift off to one side and turned the little box she’d been given around and around in her hands. The tag hadn’t said who it was from.

Figuring it probably wasn’t dangerous, Melinda pulled the ribbon from around the box. Writing on the underside of it caught her eye and Melinda frowned, then smiled. There, hand printed in tiny Cyrillic letters, were the words _“I love you,”_ and _“You won’t want anyone to see what’s in this box.”_

Melinda opened the lid just enough to make out the intricately detailed hilt of a butterfly knife before she closed it again and slipped the box into the drawer, a tiny smile on her lips as she tried to figure out when Natasha, who had still been sleeping when she’d left their apartment this morning, had found the time to slip down here and how she’d done so without anyone noticing.

**Author's Note:**

> http://shieldivarius.tumblr.com


End file.
